Old Wounds, New Remedies
by Feline Alchemist
Summary: Steampunk AU. Arther is the Captain of a war zepplin and Alfred, a poor mechanic who's just been drafted onto Arther's vessel. With battles raging and emotions rising, what will become of these star-crossed lovers? HIATUS  sorry... .
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello! Thanks for clicking on my very first Hetalia fic! So, as the fail-summary says, this is set in a Steampunk AU (if you don't know what that is, it's awesome, google it) in which a war is being waged, with poor Arther and Alfred caught in the middle (sorta ;D). Anyway, drop me a comment if you enjoy it, and just, well, enjoy! X3**

First Lieutenant Arther Kirkland sat at his desk, slumped over in exhaustion and rubbing his temples gingerly, desperately trying to will away the pain throbbing against his skull brought on by the mountains of paperwork still piled quite high, not having decreased visably despite his working on them for a good six hours now. Although that is expected of an officer of his prestigous rank. He in no way, however, expected to be subjeced to such mind-numbing monotony when he enlisted in the military to help his crippled nation's cause.

The outbursts started about eight years back, the inhabitants to the south becoming restless, angered by the recent goverment-issued doctrine restricting the nation's food supply. The Great Famin, as it was referred to venomously by everyone who had been unfortunate enough to have lived through it, had nearly wiped out every last living thing in their once great nation of Faolan. The plants went first, shrivelling into thin wisps of death, no matter how much they were tended to. Then the herbivores began to grow weak, and consequently the carnivores as well, humans included. The news stations all spewed the same excuse, a virus, they had said, that could take control of a cell's protein production and manipulate it, causing them to produce harmful chemicals and ultimately poison themselves. No organism was safe, and the nation paniced within it's unforgiving, suffocating grasp. All hope of a prosperous future had seemed hopeless, until the government miraculously introduced a strange gas that killed the virus. They had claimed to be working on it's development in secret since the famin started, but many citizens were not sure, still shaken from the all-too-soon loss of their family members, starving in the arms of their loved ones.

Soon after the Government was hailed the saviour of the nation and people began to bounce back from near extinction, groups of "Rebels" began assembling, secretly conspiring against the Government, who they had aptly nicknamed "The Silvertongues"; too afraid to utter a single blasphemous word outside closed doors, dreading what would befall them if the Silvertongues were to find out and abuse their newly-aquired power and praise. The tension had been building for months, with small squabbles occuring here and there, and the food restriction policy was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. Full-fledged attacks were carried out, all of them initiated by the Rebels, against Government headquarters and sanctioned buildings. The Silvertongues reated defensively at first, saving their _real _retaliation for after the rest of the country saw what a "victem" they were. When they struck back, they struck hard, seeking to obliterate every last "Rebel vermin" they could find. But the Rebels were sneaky, and excellent at concealing their whereabouts and plans of attack, and managed to remain undessolved, growing stronger still. It was this ferocious and bloody game of cat-and-mouse that had been going on for the past eight years, and continued still.

His nation's bloody history was the reason Arther was in his current state of agony, enlisted to overcome the "Silvertongue Liers" and punish discover the truth behind the famin, and apply the appropriate punishment when said truth was aquired. The war started when Arther was fifteen years old, working in his family's metal piping factory and assembling station. His father, a proud supporter of the Rebel cause and despiser of the Government and their pompous attitude towards the poor part of the nation, gave Arther no choice but to join the military.

"Sir!" A tall, thin man clad in a similar uniform as Arther's, olive green jacket and pants with tan accents, stiffly and swiftly snapped his left hand flush against his left brow, requesting permission to speak. Arther's head snapped up from his work, thankful of the lad breaking him out of his reverie. He gave a quick respectful nod, allowing the lower ranking officer to relay whatever inforfmation he had disturbed him for. "The General needs you in the briefing room, to prepare for the new recruits' arrival when we dock next week." he replyed.

Ah yes, the new recruits. Whenever the neverending battle had claimed to many lives on the front, a draft went out to all openly Rebel portions of Faolan, summoning fresh blood. He cringed as he rose from his red velvet-lined chair to head down the hall to the briefing room. Arther had never liked having to watch all those terrified young men, boys really, tears in their eyes from being ripped away from their families, being hearded into groups and barracks and fed sugar-coated lies of glory in battle. It was all he could do to supress the acidic vomit threatening to rear it's ugly head as he was forced to smile and nod, and greet these young men to their deaths.

And when the Officer had said 'when we dock', he was referring to the only way for them to make contact with the mainland. Arther was the First lieutenant of a motorized war zepplin, a sort of airborn headquarters for the Rebal forces. Taking to the skies was one of the many ways the Rebals had managed to remain hidden from the Silvertongues when not in battle, and the thing itself was rather massive, about the size of a four story building, hanging amongst the clouds; a clanking, weezing gem amidst the stars. Arther reached his destination at that moment, took a deep, shuddering breath while running a had through his golden blonde hair, and turned the door handle, bracing himself for whatever military nonsense he would have to endour for the next few hours.

**A/N: Hey everyone! So, this is my first Hetalia fic, so I am really trying to wow people with it. Reviews would be lovely, and I would really like to hear your thoughts, good or bad! If you liked this little taste, hang in there, it's coming XD Again, reviews would be greatly appreciated~ ^^**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello again! If you liked the first chapter and had liked it enough to read this chapter, then thanks a million! It makes me feel good that people actually like something that I am brave enough to post ^^ So, last chapter we kicked of with Arther's POV, and now here's Alfred's intro! Hope it's not too sad for you~**

Alfred Jones wiped the sweat from his dirt-dusted brow with the back of his hand, exhaling a ragged breath. He had just finished up his shift at his town's repair shop where he spent long days and even longer nights using his rather amendable skills with tools and metal to fix up odds and ends. Although he was arguablely the most intuitive, skilled mechanic in town, he and his family both were dirt-poor. Seven days a week Alfred, only twenty years old, worked diligently behind drill presses and scroll saws, manufactufacturing weapons and various items for the Rebel officers stationed in his home town. Everynight he'd come home aching exhausted, and covered in dark splotches of motor oil or rust, carrying in a small satchel containing what he had managed to scrounge up for that night's dinner, often unable to buy more than a loaf of bread and a bit of cheese with his meager salary. With a nineteen year old brother and a loving mother at home to care for and feed, their broken family barely scraped by from day to day.

The sun was setting on the feild-laden horizon, splashing the sky with vibrant hues of deep reds and playful oranges as Alfred made his trek home from his twelve hour shift at the shop. With a little while to walk still before his small, dilapidated yet cozy home came into view, he took some time to reminisce. He couldn't remember a time when he wasn't poor, although his mother told him that such a fantasy did in fact exist, at one time. His mother, bless her soul, suffered a missing left leg from a crippling factory explosion when Alfred was eight, rendering her unable to work and support the family. His father... Well he wasn't in the picture anymore, and it pained Alfred to think about him. His younger brother, Matthew, was physically and mentally abused as a young child by cruel school mates, and he had since become shy and distant to near humanly-impossible levels. He too, was rendured unable to work alongside his brother, being deemed 'mentally fragile' by the town's physician. Ever since the war started, they had gone to bed hungry nearly every night, with all of their region's food and supplies going to the front lines, and he couldn't help but hate those closest to the Government, who didn't have to worry about if their little brothers would get fed that night.

His mind was brought back to reality by the site of his home steadily approaching under his legs, dragging him foreward. He smiled softly, patting the half-full satchel hanging off of his shoulder, yearning to deliver his treasure to his hungry family. As he opened the front door and peered inside, he sensed that something wasn't quite right. He stepped into the room, noticing that his mother was seated at the dinner table, her head resting on her folded arms, her breathing slow and shaky. She seemed to be asleep, which was unusual because both her and Mattie would be hovering around the room, anxious to quiet their stomachs with whatever Alfred would bring home. Speaking of Matthew, Alfred glanced around trying to locate him, and discovered him sitting on the raggedy, torn up couch, his head hanging limp, cheeks red and damp, his one rebellious curl drooping sadly. His body was shaking with... Sobs? In his hands he clutched a creased piece of paper.

"M-Mattie? What's wrong?" Alfred inquired, his growing worry creeping it's way into his voice. He quickly walked over to his sobbing brother, tears flowing like melancholy rivers down his flushed cheeks. "Mattie! Mattie tell me, what happened?"

Matthew slowly looked into his brother's eyes, seeing the clearly evident worry mingling with his usual jovial optimism in those sky blue orbs. It made the intense sadness in Matthew's own lavender ones multiply tenfold, and he burst into another fit of violent cries.

"Mattie please... What's got you so upset? You're starting to freak me out..." Alfred said, adding a nervous chuckle.

Matthew then latched on to Alfred's shoulders, pulling him down to sit beside him, finally managing to gaze up at him once more while struggling to maintain his composure. "Y-You... You... You got... D-Drafted... Y-You're gonna... Go fight... Th-They're coming to take you away from us..." he choked, between sobs, collapsing into Alfred's chest in a sorrowful embrace after thrusting the letter at him to read for himself.

Alfred struggled to grasp the reality of Matthew's strangled words, clumsily raising the letter to his face, adjusting his glasses to read it. At the top of the creme colored parchment sat the emblem of the Rebel Military Force, with the words,"To Mr. Alfred F. Jones, authorized Rebel Citizen" below it in an elegant script. However, it was the body of the letter that had Mattie so upset. It read,

_Mr. Jones, _

_It has come to the attention of the Rebel Military that you possess exemplary skills in welding, carpentry, basic mechanics, and advanced technical tequeniques, and you could be utilised on our task force. We request your presence on our team, as a part of your country's cause, and we are doing so in a way you cannot refuse. you have henceforth been drafted into the Rebel military and will have three days to collect your belongings and say your goodbyes before an officer will arrive at your home at 6:00 AM of the third day to collect you. We look foreward to working with you. _

_Sincerely, General Stephen Heinzig _

As Alfred's eyes scanned over the last of the letter, his mind still struggled to grasp just what was going on, what this all meant. He was vaguely aware of Matthew's sobs still reverberating into his chest, and he numbly rubbed his back and stroked his hair, trying to calm his brother while also trying to calm himself. Drafted? Into the Military? How? Why him? What would happen to his family if he left? What would happen to him? How long would he be gone? Would he ever come back home? His head ached with all the endless questions swirling around the inside of his skull, repeating on a never-ending loop. Matthew finally pulled back, sniffling and wiping his eyes with his fists as he heard his mother stir from her most likely sorrow-filled slumber, realizing her eldest had returned home. Her eyes too, were red and puffy, tear-stained cheeks flush and pink.

"Mom..." Alfred whispered, rising from the couch and walking to her.

"Oh Alfie... Come here baby..." His mother sobbed, rushing over to him and wrapping him in an incredibly tight embrace, crying into his strong shoulder. So it was really happening... It wasn't all just a terrible dream that he could just shake himself out of, snap awake and be lying next to his brother, sleeping peacefully, not a care in the world... As much as he had hoped he could just blink his eyes and be rid of this sudden horror, he knew he never could... He was going off to war.

**A/N: Dun, Dun, DUUUUUUN! Poor Alfie, and poor Mattie too! It was saddening to write, but it had to be done. next chapter hopefully Arther and Alfred will finally meet! And if not next chapter, then definitely the one after ;P As always, reviews would be appreciated :3**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: My Goodness! There were so many faves and alerts, I couldn't respond to them all personally! So thanks to xXAliceKirklandXx, Mink Stoles, Solo's Orca, atomiclollipops, evilqueen13, Red Hot Holly Berries, drink-tea-and-carry-on, ryodai89, and of course Ichaberu for the alerts and faves, and SPECIAL thanks to Ichaberu and Solo's Orca for the comments! See, leaving reviews gets you SPECIAL privilages XD (coughcough incentive cough cough) Anyway, enough of my ranting, enjoy chapter 3!**

The past three days had been somewhat of a blur to Alfred. Since the moment he read the letter stained by his little brother's tears, the letter sentencing him to a life at war, his mind was running a million miles an hour, flooded with feelings. Fear. Fear for his family's ability to feed themselves in his absence, fear that he wouldn't be able to adjust to harsh military treatment, fear that he would never see his family again, that his last breath would taken in a blood soaked field somewhere, a musket in his face and ice in his heart. He tried to appear as unfazed as he usually was, for his family's sake, but he simply couldn't find any bright side to his situation.  
On the morning of that third day, when the Officer of the military was supposed to come collect him, he collected his belongings, the scarce amount that he had, into an old duffel bag. He of course left anything that could benefit his family, extra clothes for Mattie, a blanket or two for his mother's bed, and the like, and only ended up taking a few mementos from his old life over to his new, war-stained one.  
In his bag were three sets of clothes, his tool set that he'd had for years, a small, metal eagle figurine he'd welded when he was nine and first learning to build, and a photograph. It portrayed a sepia colored four year old Mattie and five year old Alfred holding hands and smiling, with their beautiful, energetic mother, Michelle, only twenty seven at the time, a livid shine in her sky blue eyes that hadn't been there for a long time now. And next to his mother, his arm around her shoulder and a warm smile on his face, was Alfred's father. Benjamin Jones, twenty nine years old in the creased photo, yellowed with time. Alfred was only six years old when his father had kissed his mother goodbye, promised to be back for dinner, and left the house, headed to a top priority meeting at a civilian's home in the north. His father was a politician before the Famine, and represented their town in National meetings, and he was summoned to a very important gathering of officials from the Government to discuss some urgent plans for the town's factories. Apparently, whatever plans the Silvertongues had for Benjamin's town, he vehemently opposed them, and refused them all, because he never came home that night. Whatever happened in that house that night, whatever the Silvertongue officials did to him, killed his father. Alfred didn't know much about why daddy never came home to tuck him into bed, not being able to remember much due to his young age at the time, and the memories were so painful that he kept his mind from wandering down that dark path at all times.  
Alfred gently placed the photo into the front flap of his bag when he heard a swift knocking on the front door. He solemnly slung the strap over his shoulder and headed into the front room, where his mother stood frozen in place, her hand gripping the knob of the open door with white knuckles, glaring at the slim Military Officer standing in the doorway. The officer's gaze shifted to Alfred, and his forest green eyes softened as he offered him a morose smile, knowing full well how painful this process was. He was wearing a deep green uniform with tan underclothes and a brown belt, and he gently brushed his shoulder length brown hair out of his eyes and greeted him.  
"Hello Mr. Jones. My name is Officer Lorinaitis, and I'll be taking you to your assigned station." Michelle whipped around, not having heard her son enter the room. Her eyes widened, and silent tears immediately poured down her cheeks as she rushed over to him and crushed him in a tight embrace, her face buried in the crook of his neck. Alfred wrapped his arms around her, relishing her warmth and trying desperately to hold back his tears, wishing he never had to let go. He had to remain strong, for his mother, for Mattie, for himself.  
"I love you so much Alfie, so much..." She sobbed into his hair, gripping him tighter. She then pulled away, her hands gripping his shoulders, "Don't you worry about Mattie and me, you just go do what's right..." she gave a swift nod and leaned in to give him a loving kiss on the forehead before releasing her grip on him.  
"I-I love you too Mom..." he replied, flashing a dimmer than usual version of his goofy grin, before looking around for his brother, spotting him over near the raggedy old couch where their sorrows began. As Alfred approached him, Matthew's eyes snapped up to his brother's from where they were glued to his feet, small tears gathering near the corners.  
"H-Hey Mattie." Alfred stuttered. For reasons unknown to Alfred, it was proving more difficult to say goodbye to his little brother than his own mom. "Since I'm not gonna be here for a while, you gotta get a job, ok?" Mattie nodded, sniffling. Alfred then pulled his brother into a strong hug, still fighting his waterworks.  
Mattie began to sob, his shoulders shuddering against Alfred's chest, as he gripped handfuls of his brother's shirt in clenched fists. "I-I'm gonna miss you Al," he managed to choke out.  
"I know Mattie, I know... I'm gonna miss you too." Alfred replied, stroking his brother's hair soothingly. When the two finally pulled away, Alfred noticed Mattie reaching into his pants pocket. When his brothers hand emerged, he was clutching a pair of goggles; two bright, maroon lenses, surrounded in brass on all sides, settled in a soft strip of dark brown leather. Alfred recognized them immediately. Their father had given them to Mattie after seeing them at some exotic market on one of business trip, and they were the dearest thing in the world to him, serving as one of his few mementos of his father.  
"Mattie, why-" Alfred started, but was cut off by a rush of words from brother.  
"I want you to have them. I don't want you to forget about me when your gone, so I want you to take them. That way every time you look at them, you'll remember why you have to come home, why you have to come back to us. Please," Matthew rushed, grabbing Alfred's hand and placing the goggles in his palm, folding his fingers over them,"Take them."  
Alfred stared at his sibling in disbelief, his mouth hanging open slightly. "B-But Mattie I..." Alfred sighed, in almost disbelief at his brother's sacrifice, and tenderly placed the goggles on his head, nestling the lenses in his hair. "I will never forget you Mattie. I promise. Thank you..." he told him. Placing his hands on Mattie's thin shoulders and staring straight into those violet pools, he whispered,"Stay awesome Mattie." Alfred's voice cracked on that last word, his calm demeanor broken by the single tear that rolled down his cheek as he reluctantly walked over towards his escort. He flashed his mother and Mattie a heroic smile each before securing his bag and walking out of his childhood home, and into the Officer's car, into his new life.  
As the black volkswagen pulled out of the driveway and was being reduced to a small speck on the horizon, Matthew held his softly sobbing mother, stroking her hair. He dried his tears and whispered,"I will."

The car-ride was long and silent, until the Officer behind the wheel spoke up. "I hope you don't view me as your enemy, I know exactly how hard what you just did was." He said, glancing at Alfred from the rear-view mirror. "I can still remember the looks on my parents' faces when they handed me a letter just like the one you got. I couldn't believe what was going on. You showed more strength back there than I ever did." The Officer's eyes darkened somewhat at the sad memory.  
"The Military must not be that dangerous if your still here, right Officer?" Alfred offered weakly, rubbing the back of his neck nervously from the backseat.  
"Well I'm not exactly a front linesman, so wouldn't know, but no, it's not terribly dangerous." the Officer answered, "And you can call me Toris. Formalities never sat well in my book."  
Alfred smiled at Toris' kindness and turned his attention to the window, where just outside it his previous life was speeding him by. If everyone at my station is as nice as Toris, maybe this gig won't be so bad... He thought to himself, itching to see where he would be station for months to come.

When Toris finally pulled the car to a stop and Alfred glanced out the window to see his station, he gaped in awe. About a hundred feet from the vehicle, amidst a bustle of men in Military uniform and other, smaller vehicles, sat a huge zeppelin. It looked to Alfred like an enormous silver golf ball without the dents, and was capped with a large glass window at the front and a slew of pipes and gears protruding from it's rear, steam seething through every crack, which were scattered all over the war-torn structure.

"What is that?" Alfred asked, mouth still gaping wide, his hands pressed flush against the car window.

"That, is Aircraft number 13, or "The Diamond" to the boys," Toris replied, chuckling at the zeppelin's ironic name,"and as you can see, it's not in too good a shape. That's why we need you. You're the best mechanic in our immediate radius, and good old Diamond was about to fall out of the sky. Alfred F. Jones, this is where you'll be stationed."

**A/N: Hooray! Long chapter! X3 I apologize for all the spelling mistakes in the two previous chapters, but due to my computer's lack of microsoft word, I am using it's version of wordpad . But this chapter should be better about it, for I have recently required a fantastic beta and a spell check website! Indeed, huzzah for me X3 And on another note, that vague bit in the middle about Alfred's father WILL be explained and/or elaborated on, so don't fret! And I also realized that I have been absentmindedly Spelling England's name as 'Arther' instead of 'Arthur' as it should be. I apologize for this as well, and it will be correct from now on. As always, reviews would be greatly appreciated! Now, on to chapter 4~**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hello everyone! I am terribly sorry for the extreme lag on updates, but I've been swamped with home work . But now that it's spring break, *throws confetti* I will hopefully get a bunch of chapters out! And with the help of some very generous reviewers, I am working out the kinks of the story. Without further adue, chapter 4!**

As Alfred approached the massive, metal beast that he would be working on, his whole outlook on the situation changed. Yeah, it was tough having to be away from his family, but despite his brother's fragility, Matthew was strong, and Alfred had faith in him. And honestly, Alfred had expected to be sent to some dark, grimy, workshop tucked away in the mountains, out of sight from the Silvertoungues, not thrust into the belly of a zeppelin, a beautiful achievement of engineers just like him, in his eyes. After all, a majestic war machine of the sky was the perfect place for a hero! He strode with an unexpected bounce in step, itching to see the insides of the Diamond.

Amidst the bustle of military officers was a cluster of young men and women dressed in simple garments, similar to Alfred, so he assumed that they were the other draftees, and he swiftly joined them. A few still looked shaken up, but most wore expressions of relief, glad to be anywhere but the front lines, chattering animatedly amongst themselves. He followed the group as a man in an olive green uniform ushered them up a steel ramp into the hollow chamber of zeppelin.

As Alfred crossed the threshold, his jaw dropped. All around him, on the walls, the ceiling, everywhere he looked, he saw puzzles of gears, pipes, pulleys, any mechanical what-not you could imagine, working together to power the ship. It was as if the Diamond was a living creature, steamy breath coursing through it and metal insides churning. Alfred could feel his heart swell and an intense warmth grow inside him as he gazed, spinning in light, lazy circles trying to take all of it in. He was so amazed by the inner workings surrounding him that he didn't notice the decorated officer that he was rapidly approaching.

Their bodies crashed together, Alfred taking a knee to his shin; the stranger, a shoulder to his nose. They both stumbled backward, the stranger falling to his rear, cursing loudly.

"G-Git! What the bloody hell! Watch where you're going will you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry sir, I-" Alfred started, but was cut off by a fit of giggling emerging from his throat. The man he had bumped into was fairly attractive, with short, ruffled blond hair, emerald green eyes, and an endearing scowl, but that was not what made him laugh. He was cut off mid-sentence by the thickest eyebrows he had ever seen. They were upturned in anger and _glaring_ at him.

"What's so blooming funny?" the man snapped, rising to his feet and dusting off his behind with one hand and holding his nose with the other.

Alfred placed a hand over his mouth in an attempt to stifle his laughter, to no avail. He gingerly rubbed his shin as he replied, "I'm sorry, it's just- your eyebrows, they're like, little angry caterpillars!" Another laugh escaped him, and he allowed it.

The other man's face flushed scarlet and his eyes widened. "Well I never! You'd think the new recruits would know to show their First Lieutenant a bit of respect!" he roared, snapping his arms to his sides, fists clenched, his nose already beginning to bruise.

Oh... His new Commanding Officer. He should have known. That would explain all of the different colored stripes on his jacket that the other soldiers lacked. Alfred rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, offering a weak smile, trying not to worsen the situation. "I'm really sorry sir!" he really did feel bed for running into him, but man, those eyebrows just caught him off guard.

"V-Very well then. My name is First Lieutenant Arthur Kirkland. You must be Alfred Jones. I've heard a lot about you, the greatest mechanic this side of the mountains. I've read your file, and I must say, despite your apparent ineptitude regarding coordination, I am quite impressed." Arthur's expression softened a bit, reverting back to a slight scowl as he pulled a slip of paper from his jacket pocket and handed it to him. Alfred accepted it, judging it to be a map of the zeppelin. "Here is where we stand now, and here is the location of your quarters. Head there immediately and you'll find a schedule and a uniform." he instructed, pointing to various spots on the map.

With that, Arthur walked past Alfred towards the other recruits to give them their individual maps, rubbing his nose in an attempt to hide the bruise. Just as Alfred began to walk away, he heard Arthur's British lilt once again.

"Oh, and Alfred?"Alfred spun around, expecting one last beratement for their altercation. He was surprised to see a smile quirking Arthur's lips. He gulped.

"Welcome to the Diamond, git."

After getting all the new recruits situated and off to their respectable rooms, Arthur returned to his office to prepare for the orientation, where he would have to give a speech welcoming the new soldiers and briefing them on their positions. He was heartened by the change of pace, the recruits appearing more cheery than usual, excited even. Especially that twit that gave him this bloody swollen nose, twirling around the deck like an idiot. Alfred F. Jones was his name, an engineer from a poor town, and apparently, a right bloody tosser. Sure, he was fairly attractive, with bright, sky-blue eyes, golden hair with one, rather amusing rebellious strand, and a wide, childish grin than never seemed to leave his face. But Arthur had so hoped that the Diamond's new head mechanic would have _some _sense in him.

Arthur smiled, remembering Alfred's expression of pure wonder and amazement as he admired the zeppelin's inner workings, his eyes as wide as dinner plates. He was glad that they were able to find someone with such a passion for what they love to take care of this old craft. He had been quite lonely as of late, his only friends being the voices in his head, the characters of his dreams, and a thought was tugging at the back of his mind, had been since his literal run-in with Alfred. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a friend in Alfred.

Arthur slammed his face into his palm. Fool! He'd only just met the man! And here was getting all flustered over his goofy grin and undeniable good looks. After additional mental scoldings, Arthur decided that that sort of thinking would only bring on a rather unwanted headache and he turned to his mirror to try and hide the wonderfully sickly blue bruise that was forming around his nose (he shuddered at the ridicule that he would suffer from his Communications Officer if the bloody frog found out where the bruise came from), and practise the speech he knew by heart.

Despite more than a few wrong turns and dead ends, Alfred finally made it to his designated room. It was painfully dull inside to Alfred's standards, with white-washed walls, a twin bed complete with light green blankets and sheets, a bedside table holding a lamp atop it, a standard desk, and a dresser on the far wall. He was certain that the walls would be covered with awesome posters and drawings _very _soon if he had any say in things, which he hoped he did. His attention turned to the items neatly placed on the bed, an expertly folded uniform, an olive green jumpsuit with beige suspenders, along with a tan tool belt, a pair of dark brown leather gloves, and light brown boots. Resting gently on top was a neatly printed schedule.

He picked up the slip of paper and read it over. The time at the moment was 5:00 PM, and he was scheduled for Orientation in an hour. After that was dinner at 7:00, something called 'Individual Training' from 7:30 to 9:00, and then it was blank from there on.

Seeing as how he had an entire hour until he was to 'report to Presentation Room B for Mandatory Orientation', Alfred decided to explore a little. He swiftly changed into his uniform, placing the goggles Mattie had given him casually atop his head, and walked out the door, slipping Arthur's map into his pants pocket.

With only his instincts to guide him, he made random turns until he was basking in the mechanical beauty of the main suspension systems once again. Feeling the familiar warmth spread within him, he walked over to the far wall of the zeppelin, examining the various moving parts. Churning levers turned gears of all sizes against one another, climbing up the wall connecting occasionally with a spring or pulley until they reached a large network of motors, all whirring and sputtering to their own mechanical tune as they pumped huge clouds of steam through massive fans, powering the Diamond and dragging it through the skies. Upon closer inspection, he realized the ivy-like wall of gears and levers was similar on every other wall, all leading up into the nest of motors.

Alfred was astonished at the craftsmanship, feeling overwhelmed with pride at the thought that he would get to lay his hands on the magnificent clockwork of metal. He closed his eyes and listened to the hiss of the steam pipes above, the crunching of the gears all around him, and bustle of other people walking past. He didn't open them until an unfamiliar voice interrupted his reverie.

"Well well well, you certainly are a cute one, non?"

Alfred snapped his eyes open and spun around, facing a tall, uniformed man with light stubble and shoulder length blond hair, a red rose tucked behind one ear. The man's appearance wasn't what was bothering him, but the predatory grin he was flashing. Before Alfred could protest, the man had swiftly closed the gap between them and was standing so close he could feel the other man's breath on his cheek, with a hand spread across Alfred's chest. His face burned a bright red as he struggled to fight a rejection through his shock.

"You have a certain, _je ne sais quoi_ about you, that is, to say the least, utterly delectable..." The man nearly whispered, pulling away suddenly as he said the last word, and clapping a _very _confused Alfred on the shoulder. "I kid, _mon cher,_ I kid! There is not much to do on this clanking thing in the way of fun other than pestering _les nouvelles_ such as yourself, so do not take it personally." He added with a grin, friendly this time, thank goodness, and thrust out his hand. "I am Communications Officer Francis Bonnefoy, but you, _mon cher_, may call me Francis. I welcome you to our little castle in the sky."

Alfred reached out hesitantly and shook his hand, regaining his composure somewhat. "M-my name is Alfred Jones, the new mechanic. You can, call me Alfred I guess..." Alfred replied, trying to will away his blush. "Well, I, er, should be getting to the Orientation soon, so, I should be on my way-" he added, wanting to escape the rather intimidating company of this Francis, when the man's face suddenly lit up.

"Ah oui! I was just headed there myself! I can escort you, non?" Francis interrupted, linking his arm with Alfred's and steering him in the direction of where he assumed to be Presentation Room B.

"I- Well- But-" Alfred stuttered, but he just sighed inwardly, reluctantly allowing Francis to lead him along. He didn't really feel like pissing off _another_ one of his superiors, and he honestly didn't know how to get to where the orientation was being held. '_This is so un-awesome...' _he thought to himself as Francis chatted animatedly into his ear.

Arthur stood on a slightly elevated stage in Presentation Room B in front of a podium and a crowd of about 20 new recruits with 15 or so existing officers and commanders mixed in. As soon as everyone was seated and in place, he took one last glance down at his notes (that he never needed) and began his speech.

"Welcome soldiers, to Rebel Aircraft 13, or The Diamond, as some call it. I am First Lieutenant Arthur Kirkland, and on the behalf of the Rebel Military, would like to thank you all, deeply, for aiding us in this time of need. I know that in all fairness we did not _ask _you to join us," This earned a small chuckle from the audience, "but please realize that we greatly appreciate your help and we wish to make you a part of this ship, as we here already are. You must know that as you've each left your families behind, you have gained a new one, here on this ship. I trust everyone found their rooms and uniforms alright, and everyone," His heart did an odd little flip as he spotted Alfred's unmistakable eyes in the crowd,"...welcome to the family. Now I would like to introduce your Activities Director, Feliks łukasiewicz." Arthur stepped off the stage and passed Feliks as he stepped up, popping his bubblegum and swishing his straight, shoulder length blond hair. Arthur took a seat next to Francis in the front row and sighed as Feliks began babbling in his valley girl manner about the daily schedules and rules and regulations of the ship.

His warm smile must still have lingered, for Francis poked his shoulder and generated a devious smile of his own. "Ooh Angleterre, have you got your eye on one of those handsome new ones?" He teasingly mussed Arthur's hair, using the nick-name that he hated, and added, "I met the cutest thing today, _mon dieu, _his eyes were like the sky. It's too bad though, I think he is terrified of me now."

Arthur's smile was swiftly replaced by his tell-tale grimace as he replied, "That's none of your damn- wait, what? Are you telling me that you met Alfred?" Arthur paled at Francis' nod of affirmation. "Oh dear god, what the bloody hell did you do?"

"Non, not to worry Angleterre, I did nothing _too_ traumatizing..." Francis teased, enjoying Arthur's light blush across his cheeks.

Throughout dinner Alfred chatted lightly with some of the other recruits, his mind always returning to the same moment. When Arthur had locked eyes with him and smiled so warmly, something he didn't even think Arthur could do, Alfred felt an unexplainable flutter in his chest. Why was Arthur affecting him this way? He couldn't make head nor tail of it, I mean, he had accidentally slammed his elbow into his face and been scolded in a peculiar accent with slang he didn't understand. Well, confusion IS the correct emotion, then, he reasoned. Still, he had no idea how to explain the feeling he got deep inside every time he saw those sparkling green eyes, those oh-so-amusing brows.

After dinner, his Individual Training was just an Officer showing him around the various areas of the zeppelin that needed repair, the locations of all the power tools and necessary instruments, and what needed to be done in what order. All in all, by the time he had returned to his room, he was exhausted.

When he turned the corner leading to his room, he glanced at the door right next to his own. Immediately his eyes widened, and a huge, goofy grin crawled across his face.

The words on the door read "First Lieutenant Kirkland".

Arthur closed the door to his room behind, counting down the minutes until he would get to lay down his head and finally get some rest after such a tiring day. All he had to do was change out of his uniform and into his pyjamas, and he was home free when he heard a knock at his door. He muttered various curses under his breath and pounded his fists against his skull as he _very _reluctantly walked over to answer the door, deciding against feigning sleep.

He was surprised to find a very anxious and worried Officer Laurinaitis on the other side of the threshold.

"What is it Toris, I was about to hop into bed." Arthur asked through gritted teeth, his bed looking more and more welcoming by the minute.

"I'm very sorry to disturb you Sir, but we just recieved a report from our eyes on the ground. The General is waiting for you in his office. He wants to see you right away." Toris replied, turning to walk to the General's office with Arthur.

"A-Alright then..." Arthur said, following Toris down the hall, a bad feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.

They reached the General's office a few twists and turns later, each giving a salute before taking a seat in front of a large oak desk. On the other side sat a tall, broad- shouldered man with slicked back blond hair and ice-blue eyes. He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands together on his stomach. "Lieutenant Kirkland."

"General Beilschmidt." Arthur answered, saluting again for good measure. "You received Intel from our ground unit?"

The General leaned forward once more and let out a ragged breath, closing his eyes before locking them with Arthur's. "Yes. Our troop gathering information on the ground picked up a rather interesting tidbit." he answered darkly. "We have reason to believe that Government spies in the city we docked in this morning have ascertained our location and are relaying it to the Capitol. We also believe that they are preparing an aerial assault, sending Government aircraft our way as we speak."

Arthur was dumbstruck. They hadn't had an attack in months, and he was rather used to not fighting by now. They couldn't have picked a better time to attack, the Diamond just having filled itself with inexperienced soldiers unfamiliar with battle protocol. He rubbed his eyes with his hands, trying to think rationally.

"I want you to personally see to it that the new recruits can sufficiently man their posts and handle their weapons by the day after tomorrow. Can you handle that? I'm trusting you with this." The General told him, a grave look on his features.

Arthur snapped his head up, cleared his throat, and put on a brave face as he answered back, "Yes General, I understand."

**A/N: Okay, about the whole Lieutenant's room being right next to a new guy's room, I wanted the Rebel Military to be less formal and less strict than the Government Military, so I made all the living quarters on the same level, with Alfred's being right next to Arthur's by chance. Also, here are some translations in case you were a little confused.**

**Mon cher **my dear

**Je ne sais quoi **I don't know what

**Les nouvelles **the new ones

**Mon dieu **my god


End file.
